


Photo Shoot #1

by wildwinterwitch



Series: Meetings [10]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Single Father (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-15 11:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1303183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was professionalism, and there was taking photos of your sexy wife in your favourite outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photo Shoot #1

**Author's Note:**

> For songfordecem, who asked for Dave/Rose, desperate shag in my ficmeme on tumblr.

“Rose.”

She looked up at him from where she was sitting on the floor, her eyes wide and innocent. Her pink lips were slightly parted, shimmering softly in the studio lights. The gentle illumination brought out the caramel and amber in her eyes. She was wearing one of his shirts, black lace knickers and black hold-ups. He could have ravaged her, that was definitely the word, the moment she first stepped onto the canvas background.

His patience was at an end now. The buttons on her shirt were undone and he could see the shape of her breast underneath the white and blue stripes. His cock twitched in his trousers. How he’d been able to pull himself together he didn’t know; there was professionalism, and there was taking photos of your sexy wife in one of your favourite outfits. 

She pushed the tip of her tongue between her teeth. “Dave.” She relaxed and her knees fell open, her legs still crossed at the ankles. He caught the whiff of her arousal and noticed the dark spot at the join of her legs.

“I want you,” he squeaked, cupping himself through the thick material of his jeans. “I want to fuck you.” He’d never found it easy to say the word, but right now, it was what he wanted. He’d waited long enough.

“I can see,” she said, reaching out for him. “Where?”

“I don’t care, just as long as I can take you.”

“How, Dave? How do you want me?” she asked. Her tone was far from playful, pushing the light from her eyes in favour of her dark arousal.

“Hard and fast. On the table,” he croaked. The words were out of his mouth before the idea had really formed in his mind. He took her hand and pulled her up, and into his body. Carding his fingers into her loose hair, he pulled her mouth towards him for a kiss. As he plundered it with his tongue, he also wanted to feel her tongue around his cock, doing that wonderful swirly thing around its head that nearly always pushed him over the edge. He was sure that today was such a day. Not such a good idea.

Despite his sudden desperation, he wanted her to enjoy the ride too. Her pleasure was important to him, even if she said that sometimes she was glad to give without receiving.

Rose broke the kiss in need of air, and he chose the opportunity to lift her up. Rose wrapped her legs around his waist and he carried her to the sturdy old kitchen table. It was at the perfect height, and when he set her down and withdrew, he took her knickers along with him. Rose leaned back onto her elbows and spread her legs.

“Come on. I want to see you too,” she said, reaching down to play with herself.

Dave forgot to breathe for a few moments. She rarely touched herself in his presence, and it was such an erotic sight.

“Dave,” she moaned. “Help me along here. Take off your clothes.”

“All of them?” he squeaked.

“Leave the shirt, but unbutton it,” she said.

He did as he was told, stroking himself as he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. He’d left it for last, and he was glad he’d not put on a vest that morning. It was one of the rare sweltering city summer days.

“You’re so beautiful, Dave. I love your cock,” she moaned, her head falling back, her hair spilling down her back like a waterfall.

He’d waited long enough. Stepping between her knees, he grabbed her thighs and made her wrap her legs around him. “Will I do?”

She looked at him. “Yeah,” she said, raking her fingernails through his chest hair and over his nipple. He sucked in the air. “Now, Dave. Please.”

He aligned himself with her and pushed. She was everything he’d fantasised about, and better. Hot and wet and so tight, welcoming. “Rose,” he almost cried, his chin dropping to his chest as he watched the point where they connected. He pushed until he couldn’t go any deeper. Rose exhaled loudly.

“Come on, Dave. Pleasepleaseplease. Fuck me.”

“Yes, Rose.” He established a slow rhythm, and they adjusted to the position on the table as best they could, seeking as much skin contact as possible as well as purchase. Dave reached into her shirt and brushed his thumb over her nipple. She’d already worked it into a hard little nub earlier, so even the slightest touch caused her to gasp. It was the reason why she loved wearing his shirts. The friction of the soft material was exquisite. He knew from his own experience.

Rose reached for the back of his neck and he looked at her. “Hard and fast, Dave, remember? No… no cuddling now. We’ve had enough foreplay,” she said.

“I can’t resist you.”

“Then don’t. Dave. Please.”

He decided that she’d begged enough and he started, without warning, to thrust into her just like they’d imagined it. It didn’t take him long to reach the point when the pleasure coiled deep in his abdomen, ready to unsnap and spill into her. Rose was lying back on the table, her fingers wrapped around his wrist. One side of the shirt had slipped off her body, revealing a light glow on her skin where exertion bloomed. He wanted to cup her breast, but that would have slowed him down.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “I’m close.”

“Dave.” It was a helpless little moan. She didn’t need the extra attention.

He shoved into her one last time and clenched his arse with one groan and the thought of how much he loved her. Like a flashlight, the intensity of the emotion blinded him and he slumped into her arms, where she welcomed him with soothing words and featherlight kisses.

She adjusted the grip of her legs around his waist. She must be uncomfortable with his dead weight, at this angle. When he withdrew, he looked with fascination at their combined juices; it was an image he’d only ever keep in his memory, he decided. Rose was no porn star. She was his.


End file.
